Friday, July 20, 2012

Praying for Victims of Violence

Dear Friends,

This morning, with all of you, I'm praying for all those who were injured, or lost their lives, in last night's senseless massacre at a movie theater in Aurora, Colorado. I've seen that a three-month-old infant is among the dead. As day breaks, it's almost impossible to imagine the waves of grief overwhelming families, friends, neighbors. And somewhere, in a Colorado jail: a young man who lost it, whose only remaining thrill turned vicious and violent. I'm praying for all of them and for all of us.

In my tradition, we cherish the notion of humanity as a body--one living body, many members. In that sense, we've all lost something overnight. When the young man opened fire in a theater last night, he ripped at the flesh and fabric of shared community. If you're feeling a little less safe today, I pray for you. If you're sending your kids to the movies today--a bit less sure of things--I pray for you and for them.

Over the past couple years, I've worked with friends in Santa Cruz to advance the "Charter for Compassion" as a tool for public life and community discernment. Can we return to a core commitment to empathy, generosity and love for neighbor? Can we make that commitment the central feature of public discourse and decision-making? You might want to check out the Charter's website this morning--as a way of renewing your commitment to compassion in daily life. There are things we can do. Even today. Especially today.

Here's a prayer for all of us:

God of the very young and the very old,
God of the very broken and the very frail,
God of those who dream and those who can't:

We pray today for all those who were in that theater last night:
for lovers and children, for working folk and worrying folk,
for all those who just wanted a little entertainment at the end of a long day.

Receive in mercy and grace those who lost their lives.
You are the Source of all lives--look upon them in your infinite Love.
Touch with healing power all those wounded,
and bless those who now care for them in the hour of need.
And be a blessing to all the others who carry awful, frightening memories
into the rest of their lives. Grant peace. Grant rest. Grant wholeness.

Thank you, Holy One, for all the responders who did their jobs well:
for police officers and paramedics, for firefighters and theater workers.
We give thanks for their public commitments, for their risking of life,
for the ongoing service of our public servants. We would not be the same
without these brave neighbors and friends.

With humility and courage, we pray too for the sad young man who
planned and executed this awful attack. You know he's not well. You
hold him, somehow, in your heart of mercy and grace. Help us, as a country,
to search out the violence--the love of violence--in our own hearts. And then
teach us at last to lay down our swords, shields, gas masks, nukes--and study
war, study war games, study video war games, study it no more.

For you--Creator, Maker, Lover--are the God of Love. You have made us
for Love. And we would walk in your steps. Now, always. In Aurora, Santa
Cruz, and everywhere. Amen.

TAKE OFF YOUR SHOES

I've been thinking a lot about Moses this summer, and this bit about burning bushes, and taking off our shoes, and standing on holy ground. Moses was about to be tasked with an enormous responsibility: speaking truth to power, confronting the titans of industry, demanding that Pharaoh let the oppressed go free. But before he could even begin to entertain that call, he had to see what was going on in an ordinary desert shrub. He had to grasp the holiness and wonder and beauty of soil--dust--hillside--wilderness. This strikes me as so, so important for us: that we learn to swoon before creation, to praise the glory and namelessness of the holy, to take off our shoes and love it all. Only then, I think, are we able to contemplate the radically liberating call and the daring project of justice and liberation.

DAVE GRISHAW-JONES

WELCOME to VALLEY RISE UP: a blog exploring faith and wonder, ethics and passion. If you find something helpful here, anything helpful here, I hope you'll take it along and make it work for you. I live and work in Santa Cruz, California, where I'm a pastor and teacher at Peace United Church of Christ. My ministry is fluid and complex: creating spaces for conversation, leading a congregation in worship and prayer, actively pursuing justice in the community and world around me. More than anything else, I see myself as a spiritual guide and mentor for seekers and believers. In a beautiful and befuddling world, faith offers courage, resilience and tenderness. On the side, I love to read and write poetry, and I've written a number of hymns and songs as well. In VALLEY RISE UP, I try to keep the conversation alive, exploring grace, peacemaking, human yearning and hope.

Swords pounded into ploughsharesBombs into bread and wineSwords pounded into ploughsharesBombs into bread and wineSwords pounded into ploughsharesBombs into bread and wineGlobal feast, blessed peace, by & by!

PEACE--SALAAM--SHALOM!

CENTRAL COAST VOICES

DAVE ON FACEBOOK

CORE PRACTICE: PRAYER

"If the inner life is great," said Meister Eckhart 800 years ago, "the outer life will never be puny." Eckhart and others talk about two dimensions in prayer: the horizontal (connecting us in lovingkindness to others) and the vertical (uniting us in love with the Source of all that is and will be). The two intersect in stillness, in reflection, in meditation, in prayer. And this kind of practice is cultivated, tended like a garden, through daily experience and circles of support. There are so many ways into a practice of prayer. For some of us, silence is the key; for others, it's movement, yoga, tai chi, qi gong. The key seems to be discipline, and steady practice. It's a wild and noisy world out there, so find a place and time to step aside and pray. And do it often.

PRAYER, STILLNESS, CONNECTION

PRAY!

THOMAS MERTON'S PRAYER

MY LORD GOD, I have no idea where I am going. I do not see the road ahead of me. I cannot know for certain where it will end. Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing so. But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you. And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing. I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire. And I know that if I do this you will lead me by the right road, though I may know nothing about it. Therefore I will trust you always though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death. I will not fear, for you are ever with me, and you will never leave me to face my perils alone.

CORE PRACTICE: AGAPE

Agape is a very particular kind of love, reflected in the stories of Jesus, refracted through his life, his sacrifice, his passion for communion and justice. I like to link agape (a Greek word found in the Christian scriptures) with ahimsa or nonviolence. Like Jesus, Gandhi practiced a rigorous and expansive kind of love. His ahimsa (a Sanskrit word) permeated relationships, family responsibilities, public commitments and his many projects for the betterment and liberation of his people. Like ahimsa, agape has something to do with seeing the other for the unique and precious being she is, without insisting on her conformity or conversion. It involves us in seeking the greatest good, the deepest joy for her. Simply because she is. And like prayer, agape draws energy and staying power from joy, worship, study and friendship.

CHRIST AMONG THE LILIES

By Stanley Spencer

CORE PRACTICE: COMMUNION

When the church remembers Jesus’ passion and reenacts his gracious sacrifice, it invites transformation in each of us. From self-centered living to neighborly love. From narrow-minded concern to cosmic generosity. From numbness to mindfulness. At the table we practice mindfulness, forgiveness and incarnation. The word becomes flesh in us. And we return once again to the image of God. In the beautiful feast of life.

Of course, transformation is also taking place within ‘communing’ communities. Communion calls forth hospitality and courage. Ana María Pineda writes of the early Jesus movement: “The early church, which met in houses, grew up turning hosts into guests and guests into hosts.” More than simple charity, this ongoing practice of hospitality is transformative. When strangers are truly welcomed, a new community emerges, surprising gifts are received; at some point, guests become hosts. Like communion, hospitality isn’t a transaction through which service is rendered and compensation offered. It’s an act of faith whereby relationships are honored, prayers are shared and deep needs are met.

CORE PRACTICE: FORGIVENESS

These are words written by Rowan Williams, once the Archbishop of Canterbury: "So to live a ‘forgiven’ life is not simply to live in a happy consciousness of having been absolved. Forgiveness is precisely the deep and abiding sense of what relation—with God or with other human beings—can and should be; and so it is itself a stimulus, an irritant, necessarily provoking protest at impoverished versions of social and personal relations." Gospel love is so much more than sentiment, so much more than a Hallmark card. It’s a relentless call to reconciliation and peace, even an “irritant” at times. If you’re so much as angry with a sister or brother, if your heart grieves a broken relationship of any kind, there’s work to be done. The kingdom is restless. What God desires is the kind of worship that provokes forgiveness, reconciliation, community. Before you offer that gift at the altar, do a little inventory. Which of your relationships are strained? Is there envy or resentment between you? Has hurt been done? “First be reconciled to your brother or sister,” and consider reconciliation the greatest gift you can offer at the altar of love.